A Lady and Her Gentleman
by lady winde
Summary: A collection of snippets in no particular order regarding the newly recruited Lady Erilys Cousland and the Grey Warden Alistair. **Heavy Game Spoilers**
1. Snippet 1 Ritual Be Damned

**A Lady and Her Gentleman**

This is a series of snippets in no particular story order regarding the romance between the newly recruited Lady Erilys Cousland and the Grey Warden Alistair. **Caution Heavy End Game Spoilers**

_** Snippet 1 – Ritual Be Damned**_

With an unearthly calm she gently closed the door to her room. She took off her armor with a mechanical demeanor, piece by piece, the actions taking little to no effort as her mind tried to wrap itself around the reality of what was happening down the hall.

The maids of Arl Eamon's estate had been kind enough to supply her cabinets with a silken chemise. The fabric slid over her skin like a lover's caress. The thought made her chest tighten, and with as much effort as she could, she pushed the notion away. Her calloused fingers methodically took the pins from her hair, the long blood red tendrils cascading down her back in dark waves. She couldn't help but remember the look on Alistair's face when he regarded her unbound hair for the first time. Silken threads had weaved through his fingers. How he had said he couldn't think of anything more beautiful, how he had kissed her reverently and taken her that night and many nights afterwards.

Oh how heavy her heart was! She hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath.

She leaned against the bedpost, her hands clutched at her chest. Her voice came to her in a shaking pleading whisper, "Breathe. Breathe. Oh for the love of the maker, just breathe!" The silent tears began their escape and with the fluttering of lashes, begging to stop their parade, she wept.

_ Stop it. Stop it!_ Her hands were pressed against her eyes; the pressure behind them so hard it was as if she was trying desperately to push the cursed images out of her mind forcefully. She didn't _want_ to imagine, she didn't _want_ to know. But _it_ was there in her mind like a venomous cloud, the dark tendrils latching on and sucking away at what little semblance of sanity she could muster. She couldn't feel the cut of her nails from her unclenched palm dig into the skin beside her furrowed brow.

His skin was touching _that_ woman's. Were _his lips_ pressed upon hers in a fit of ecstasy? Oh the sudden wave of anguish that came upon her! It arose from within the deep dark pit of her soul and she fell to her knees and let out a wail full of sadness and grief that she hadn't done since she was a small child. Like a rising tide of emotion everything was catching up to her. There had been no time to mourn; there had always been movement and the constant companionship of her comrades in arms to keep such dark thoughts at bay. This was to be her night, the longest night she had ever known, to mourn; this was to be her night to grieve over the deaths of her loved ones, of her father, mother and all those back at the house of Cousland.

A creak of the door sounded as it slightly parted, unnoticed. Amber eyes watched silently. A moment later the door closed and Zevran was gone.

Erilys continued to sit upon the stone floor, her tired gaze looking at the burning hearth. Someone had been kind enough to get a nice fire burning before she had retired for the evening. She huddled beside the pile of wood neatly placed by the fire. There was so much to ponder, to think about and all she wanted to do was beat the witch silly for her silly ritual. She almost felt like a child knowing that some other undeserving child was playing with her favorite plaything. Erilys glowered, _She better not be licking any lamp posts._

Frustration made her jaw clench at the thought!

Desperately she looked around her room to find anything to do to put her mind at ease, something to keep it occupied until she could finally succumb to sleep and perhaps get a sweet, sweet dream of the Archdemon roaring lullabies in her ear. Her armor looked like it needed polishing; there was some gore her critical eye caught that her sweet Atticus hadn't managed to find while he licked it cleaned. She thought to venture out of her room, but it was still early enough that the others would be awake and the prideful noble in her didn't wish the others to see her in her puffy red eyed state. Ah vanity.

Maybe if the others saw her polishing her sword with such grim determination beneath the light of the moon they would know to stay away. Well… at least Oghren would anyways. Or perhaps he'd suggest she polish his. Now _that_ almost managed a chuckle.

She pulled herself up from the floor and reached for her discarded armor and pack. Erilys was determined to have her armor sparkling. The noble Lady Cousland would be the glittering beacon the darkspawn would be drawn to like one of those glamour stones. When she opened the pack, there to greet her was the pressing book that housed the rose Alistair had given her. The tug of memory forced a smile upon her face. He had been so sweet, so innocent in his cute ramblings as he stumbled about trying to tell her how he felt. She had gladly stumbled along with him.

Polishing cloth and ointment in hand she got to work. There was to be no dried blood left, if one spot of armor looked dull she would attack it with grim determination and more. Undeterminable amount of time passed as she polished and scrubbed till she realized that working anymore on it would be borderline obsession. Frustrated, she dropped her armor unceremoniously to the floor and gave it a slight push with her foot.

Lady Erilys sighed as she fell on to her bed, how restless she felt! Glumly she stared at the door. How it mocked her so in her torment, self inflicting that it was. She thought of looking for a good book to read though her heart wasn't in it. She would simply turn the pages in unrest and possibly throw the book in the fire. A small smile painted her lips; perhaps Arl Eamon wouldn't appreciate her burning his dusty old books in frustration.

As she continued to rest, Erilys desperately wished for Atticus to appear out of nowhere and curl up beside her. He was more than likely in the kitchens, being as cute as a mabari warhound could; all muscle and fur with a deceptively cute whine. He would curl up beside her as she hugged him close just like when her father first gave him to her. Atticus had been such a cute pup and he was still just as mischievous. Thinking of Atticus strangely reminded her of Alistair. He was always moving, happy. So clever with his words and if he was upset oh how boyishly sad he could get!

With those parting thoughts, Erilys drifted to sleep.

When her eyes finally opened it was still dark out, the brilliant fire of her hearth before was but a small flickering flame. Lowering her gaze to her side she noticed Alistair had not returned to her bed. She rubbed her head with a weary hand, lips tightly pressed as she got up from her coverlets. Perhaps she'd sneak a bit of fruit from the kitchens or get a nice big goblet of wine to drink to her heart's content. Or she could take the entire bottle!

Carefully she stepped down the hall, her blanket firmly wrapped around her shoulders. Erilys paused as she noticed the door to Alistair's room had finally been closed. She stood before it staring at the imposing wood unable to make up her mind. She could not and would not force her way in there. She wasn't in her right mind. The things she would say would be hurtful, the things she wanted to do would make her feel repulsive later on.

Erilys watched the hearth's fire light dance beneath the door, it was almost soothing… calming. It was enough for her to focus on for a time and lose herself in. The sudden shadow passing by sent a sudden shiver of alarm through her, her body tensed and her hand pressed over her mouth. The shadow beneath the door seemed to stare back at her, unmoving. It held her captive and it kept her there as if it had the power to paralyze whoever laid eyes on it.

Slowly the door began to pull open. Her eyes widened with fear and with a panicked frenzy she reached for the handle and firmly held the door in place. Erilys bit her lip, trying to keep from saying a word. What in the world was she thinking, she thought? Oh how she had wished she had simply stayed in her room! If only she had attempted sleep instead of even entertaining the thought of venturing out when she simply was not in her right state of mind.

"W-what the- Erilys?" Ah so he was surprised to meet such sweet resistance?

_ Stupid, stupid woman_, she agonized. All she had to do was let go of the door and flee. Or perhaps not flee but stand there as the proud Cousland she had been brought up to be, standing as regal as any noble lady could in her nightgown, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, with unfastened hair, and looking as if she had been crying all night and torturing herself with unabashed and unwanted fantasies of her betrothed and witch-friend tangling themselves in clean linen sheets. The sudden pull of the door only made her hold on to the door tighter.

"Maker's breathe let go of the door! Erilys? Whoever you are? This isn't really a good night for jokes and the like. We fight the Archdemon tomorrow, remember that? Big ugly tainted dragon flying about? Dozens of Darkspawn? Yes? No? Let go of the door and get some rest!"

She simply replied with silence.

"Ah I see… you think I'm going to be dissuaded by a little silent treatment? Well I have news for you; I'm _used_ to silent treatments! You won't faze me one teensy bit. I don't know if you've heard but I'm a king now, although I don't really want to be king, but I have kingly commands and guards that I can, ah , command and I won't be afraid of using them. The commands I mean. Just let go of the door and perhaps we can talk? Pretty please? No hurt in a parlay eh?"

Listening to the boyish pleading of the man she loved was enough to soften the tension in her arms. She hadn't noticed the slight testing of the door or else she would have been prepared for the ferocious yank that sent her flying forward in all her noble gracefulness. At the very least the blanket had been kind enough to cover her completely and allow her some sort of shield from shame as she was stunned on hand and knee.

Silence.

Perhaps he hadn't noticed a woman wearing only a chemise and blanket fall to the floor. Perchance the blanket was magically enchanted and she was rendered invisible from friend and foe alike. She didn't make a sound. Just what was she to do? Slowly she started to turn around, the blanket fervently guarding it's bearer from the evil man's view. As she silently prayed to the Maker, she began to make her exit, crawling as a tiny babe would. What would Fergus have said?

"Making your escape are you? Tsk, tsk… Shall you reveal yourself or must I?"

She fervently shook her head.

"Erilys?" Such a tender question. How was it that he could shape her name into such a delicate knife and slide it into her aching heart? It only made her more determined to leave.

She fervently shook her head… again.

The woman felt his presence just beside her; he was most likely kneeling in place. "If you are not Erilys, then who pray tell… who are you? Leliana?" There was a slight pause, "Zevran?"

She bit her lip hard. Damn him and his charming humor. There wasn't much point in hiding any longer though her stubborn nature fought with her tooth and nail as her shoulders sagged in defeat. Why was she fighting this to begin with? It had been _her_ firm push that had made his "infidelity" tonight happen… She had fooled herself into thinking that one night would be fine if it meant she could have her sweet happily ever after with the man she had come to cherish.

How positively naïve of her.

"I take the slouch a sign of surrender then?" She delivered a slight nod. "Good. I would hate to alarm the house if someone was trying to keep me imprisoned in my own room, although I highly recommend a different method altogether, friend." Alistair pulled the woman in his lap, blanket and all. "Is it alright if I unmask my would-be assailant?"

As she nodded, he gently pulled the blanket down.

Without saying a word he held her tightly, his head buried in the crook of her neck. It seemed there would be no witty lines to remark the tangled mess of her hair. She hadn't expected the strength of his embrace but it was as if… in his arms he was attempting to relay something that couldn't be expressed in words and somehow she was at the edge of understanding what he was trying to say.

She brushed her cheek against his in response. Would he understand the apology in such a small gesture? He felt so fresh… smelled so clean. Her eyes flew open and regarded the arm that held her tightly. His skin was blotchy and smooth as if someone had tortured him with the roughest sponge in all the land. Her hands reached up to touch his hair and to her surprise and satisfaction it was still damp. Yet why was she so afraid to speak?

Thumb and forefinger maneuvered her chin so her gaze would meet his. His dark brown eyes were full of so many things: love, sorrow, apology, tenderness and understanding. It was all so much that it broke away at the fragile façade of calm and stoicism that had been slowly piecing itself together. "Alistair, I-"

"Shhhh. No words from you, my love. We'll talk about it tomorrow I think that ah… It... it is too soon. I apologize if I'm being presumptuous and assuming but aside from what happened this… this is our last night before the final push and… all I want to do is hold you." He gently touched his forehead to hers, his voice a hoarse whisper, "When I look at you, I see a woman who fell into my life and made so much right in my simple little world. If for one moment you doubt the love I hold for you after all that you and I have been through then I…" His lips brushed the small wound she had inflicted upon herself earlier in the evening. Such tenderness! He pulled back and regarded her with such naked adoration, "I have not been conveying it as properly as a man madly in love should."

He held her as he brought them both up from the floor. He arched an eyebrow as he swept the blanket away from her shoulders, revealing the thin chemise beneath. There she stood before him as a woman, no customary plate armor to unclasp and unbuckle. "Maker's breath, you're beautiful."

And with that his lips were upon hers in such urgency she had to cling to him lest she fall back. How she loved how he tasted, how he smelled! So wrapped up in the kiss, she hadn't realized they had been moving to his bed. As the edge of the bed touched the back of her knees, Erilys broke the kiss and regarded him; the question was there in her dark green eyes. He simply answered by removing his night shirt and pressing her hands to his chest. She closed her eyes and sighed as she felt the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Her fingers slipped from his grasp and with a lady's grace she discarded the chemise from her person. The hungry look in Alistair's eyes was more than enough to let her know he liked her reply. Ritual be damned, if this possibly was their last night together this would be _their_ night! And Erilys was more than determined to make sure her Alistair would remember it for the rest of his life.


	2. Snippet 2 Arriving in Ostagar

**A Lady and Her Gentleman**

This is a series of snippets in no particular story order regarding the romance between the newly recruited Lady Erilys Cousland and the Grey Warden Alistair. **Caution Heavy End Game Spoilers**

_**Snippet 2: Arriving at Ostagar**_

There seemed to be so much land ahead of them though the ruins were finally coming into view. From the fallen House of Cousland did she and Duncan journey. They had been constantly moving and her bones ached as did her heart. Like bandits fleeing into the night, the grey warden and the initiate disappeared into the darkness leaving fire and death far behind them. There had been no horses or carriages to make the journey pleasant. Her mabari, however, was quite content to continue to happily trot along on foot. Erilys had been thankful for the mindless movement although her feet were beyond sore thanks to the miles upon miles they seemed to have journeyed. Perhaps she would be allowed to collapse just outside Ostagar and some dashing young warrior would take pity on her and carry her and ceremoniously lay her tender body down on some nice comfortable bedroll?

"_Why look at this poor beautiful warrior of a woman who has fallen at my feet! Come gentle maiden, I come to thee and shall warm your bones. I have some broth that shall ease your heart and make you feel whole again."_

Even such silly thoughts as these could make her blush in the chill weather.

Duncan looked back at her, as she had been lagging behind, and he beckoned her to his side as he stopped in his step. For some reason she couldn't quite meet his gaze. She hadn't been sure what to make of the man that had stood beside her father. He had kept to himself and his voice had been kind. Was she to think of him as a savior? She wasn't so sure what to believe anymore.

"I will have to send for a mage to look after you once we are within the ruins of Ostagar. I apologize for the urgency in which we traveled but we could not afford to stop lest the darkspawn begin their attacks sooner than expected."

Erilys blinked up to him with a confused look, her breath clouded from her parted lips, "I appreciate your concern, my lord, but other than aching muscles and perhaps a blister I am fine."

"Ah. You looked red with fever. Still, we cannot afford any delays once we arrive. If you should begin to feel ill let me know."

_Sweet Maker's breath! _Erilys managed a smile while curdling and withering inside her armor with embarrassment. "Of course." How sweet she sounded!

They had finally arrived at the ruins where they were personally greeted, to her surprise, by King Cailan Therin. He had been as pleasant as the stories from her father, the late Teryn Cousland, had said. Cailan had been charming and full of such optimism that even she had felt herself smiling in return. She knew her part to play then, as her mother was so kind to instruct her in courtly manners. Right on cue her smile had grown sad, one hand had been daintily placed over her heart as the other gestured slightly by her side, as she explained what had transpired thanks to the treacherous Arl Rendon Howe.

Perhaps it had been unnecessary but regardless she was pleased that the kind king had promised justice. Her eyes had grown dark as she thought to the future, a wonderful and magnanimous setting to come where Arl Howe was hanging lifeless from an executioner's noose. Or perhaps the guillotine would be employed. Hmm.

Erilys was saddened that even while in Ostagar no rest was to be had. She had lived her life free of being the selfish little noble but she was edging closer to just dropping to her knees and laying back in the cold dirt in protest. Proper decorum be damned! Duncan had been nice enough to take Atticus off her hands while he had sent her on an errand. Poor sweet Atticus looked so sad that the mean old Duncan had taken him from his darling master. Spoiled beast. He was probably already curled up by the burning fires with roasted mutton being thrown from every which way.

Alistair. Alistair. Alistair. She mournfully looked around, eyebrow arched. _"He will be at the old temple I think… You will know when you find him."_ Such a simple enough task yet the vagueness was enough to make her want to choke her savior, the sweet, sweet Duncan. How ominous it sounded too. What would make someone stand out to make them obvious to one's own eye? She couldn't help but impishly grin at how resigned Duncan had seemed when sending her off to find this _other_ Grey Warden. Perhaps this Alistair was someone likely to get into trouble. Or perhaps this troublesome man had a habit of dipping his quill in forbidden ink. Or perhaps he was as big as a bear and just as hairy. To be given such a mundane and uninteresting task; the least she could do was muse on silly things to keep her mind occupied. Oh look, a chicken.

She couldn't help but marvel at the majesty the ruins commanded. Ivy delicately clung to the skeletal stone walls as if it were a devoted lover clinging to its dying paramour. It was a shame tents upon tents had littered the area around the walls and whatever buildings were still standing. There was so much going around the ruined fortress it was enough to disorient anyone not accustomed to so much restless movement. Priests were offering chants and prayers to those that would listen. While mages and nurses were frantically tending to the wounded as archers and soldiers were practicing before the battle began.

How misplaced they all seemed to be.

As Erilys made her way toward the temple she could hear shouting. Someone wasn't pleased. Perhaps she pegged this Alistair correctly: trouble to the t. The young woman tried to be inconspicuous as she made her way toward the shouting but she realized there wasn't any need. A mage seemed to be enjoying berating the younger man clad in splint mail. Or she assumed he was younger since his back was facing her. And what a nice backside it was. _Must act a lady… Who's a lady? I'm a lady. Pure as snow. Yes… snow._

The young man turned his face to the side and Erilys couldn't help but, as she would say, politely stare at the wonders the Maker had made. It would be impolite to not be thankful for such things she often convinced herself. She did so appreciate a handsome face but she wasn't here to court young men. Oh no, no, no. Lady Erilys Cousland of Highever was here to do battle and fight darkspawn. As her eyes followed the line of the warrior's jaw she couldn't help but muse that it couldn't be so bad to admire such nice things along the way. It certainly made things more interesting and who wanted to be bored? Erilys could act the part of the sweet battle-maiden since she had come of age all the while keeping such charming delectable thoughts to herself. All such things were nice and locked away where no one could ever hope to peek. It was the proper thing to do after all.

So lost in thought was she that she hadn't noticed the mage rudely bump into her as he stormed off. At least she had a better view of the younger man's face. His brown eyes were focused on hers and his lips were moving. Ah sweet virginity. How it makes one want to taste the cup of desire so badly. So, so, so badly… The warrior smiled at her expectantly and then it dawned on her. Quick! Think! It must have been a question! Answer with haste and ladylike composure!

"Oh yes." Erilys smiled prettily at him and tilted her head slightly as she regarded him. He definitely seemed to like her answer. Thank the Maker. He seemed so much younger than she; perhaps it was thanks to his attitude: all smiles despite the dread and anxiety regarding the battle to come. But she welcomed the cocked eyebrow and wry grin that seemed quite at home on that handsome face of his. She inwardly sighed. Erilys Cousland wasn't some heart struck whimsical damsel waiting to be swept off her feet once she spied a handsome warrior. She stomped down heavily on such thoughts with all her might. Her smile became strained though thankfully he didn't seem to notice.

"So… It cannot be everyday one gets to be lectured by a grumpy old mage." Smile sweetly. Eye him prettily. What am I doing? She glowered and his grin seemed only to get wider.

"Well what can I say? I attract all kinds of attention. Once a charming templar always a charming templar."

I'll say. She courteously coughed and smiled politely.

"So are you… Yes, you must be! The Grey Warden recruit Duncan had sent word of?" His eyes seemed to lighten up as he took a step forward. Erilys continued to smile as she took a step back.

"Ah, yes." She couldn't fathom how the message could have reached this place before they did. Perhaps they had a horse. She wasn't going to dwell on it however. "Lady Erilys Cousland of Highever. A pleasure to meet you…?" The noblewoman looked at him quizzically as she left the inquiry in the air.

"Alistair, at your service. So… you are Teryn Cousland's daughter, yes? I guess it shows you how bleak a situation it is if Duncan must recruit someone so… _high_ in the chained web of nobility."

She fought the urge to flinch and her face hardened to keep the pain from rising to the surface. "I wasn't left with much of a choice, I'm afraid. House Cousland could be no more and I'm afraid there is naught I can do to restore it."

The Grey Warden placed a hand on her shoulder, and she couldn't help but look up into those warm eyes of his. He really was handsome. "I don't know the circumstances that brought you here, my lady. But know that you aren't alone here. We'll do our best to make you feel welcome. Who knows! Maybe the darkspawn will join in our cheer up session. Not only holding hands, but singing songs! I do hope they know a good limerick or two. I love limericks!"

Erilys politely tried to hide a chuckle behind gloved fingertips, "You are too much, my lord." How demure she could be! Her smile was genuine and he couldn't help but return it in kind.

"Oh no. Please don't do that. I've never cared much for formalities. Just Alistair. _Please._ I may be your senior warden but I'm not about to have you calling me any sort of title." He visibly shivered, shaking his head to add dramatic effect. "You, though, you are of noble blood. Would it be too bold of me if I referred to you as simply Erilys? Or will it be Lady Erilys or would '_my lady'_ suffice?"

There was something about how he said "_my lady"._ The way his tongue seemed to wrap itself deliciously around those two simple words was positively sinful. Erilys knew she was letting her head run away with her brain. Ah that wonderful brain, how she missed it. "I suppose Lady Erilys will have to do for now for propriety's sake although I am quite partial to my lady if you insist." _And extremely partial to the most beautiful lady I have ever laid eyes on, please come this way and let me kiss you till you are a smoldering pile of ash_. My how long that sounds. She smiled politely.

"Come along then, _Lady_ Erilys. We musn't keep good kind Duncan waiting, lest he bristles up and starts a lecture or two on the importance of punctuality." Alistair gave a heartfelt smile as he gestured for her to follow beside him as they made their way back into the mass of tents.

He thoughtfully scratched his chin as they walked along, "You know I didn't think he'd have recruited a woman." Erilys couldn't help but arch an eyebrow in response. "Ah no, no don't misunderstand me! I mean nothing by it, honestly. It is… just sort of odd how we don't ever seem to have many female grey wardens. Women can be just as formidable with a blade and then some."

Lady Cousland shot Alistair an incredulous glance, "You know this first hand?"

Alistair seemed to really enjoy that, the way he grinned deepened his dimples greatly and Erilys forced herself to look away. Staring when one was facing or beside you was incredibly impolite after all. "No can't say that I do. We can remedy that however. Let's have ourselves a little duel and see who comes out on _top_." Oh sweet Maker…

Erilys was suddenly filled completely with cold dread and odd anticipation. Was he_ flirting_ with her, she wondered. The young noblewoman had learned she wasn't nearly as clever as she had thought she had been three summers prior when Thomas Howe had come over to visit with Fergus. When they were alone with each other she couldn't help but stumble over her words accidentally insulting him in the process. Apparently being called beady eyed, then later hawk nosed, and big footed was a bit much. If only she had understood the innuendo properly instead of following Fergus's advice. Say it straight he says. Never again.

She painted a suitable smile on her face as Erilys hoped she was grasping at the correct words as a proper lady would. "Name your weapon of choice and perhaps we shall see who is the stronger at sex."

"Excuse me what?"

"I said who is the stronger sex."

"Ah." He politely coughed. How adorable he was at blushing.

Erilys couldn't help but be disappointed that the rest of the walk towards Duncan's whereabouts was in polite and awkward silence. She had stolen a few glances at her senior warden and he seemed lost in thought each and every time. Perhaps he was thinking that he'd have a talk with Duncan to reconsider his judgment regarding his most recent choice in recruits. She couldn't help but scowl at that thought. She was formidable when she had to be and had proven herself a true warrior defending her home with what little help she had.

Alistair came to a halt and motioned for Erilys to pass through the crumbling pillars before them. There before the blazing pyre stood Duncan, his hands neatly and calmly held before him. Nearby beside him were two others, an older gentleman who seemed to concentrate looking into the blaze. The way he held himself presented an image of honor and respect. Then the younger leaner individual was too happy to let his eyes wander over the noblewoman, something she hadn't missed. She quickly clenched her jaw and looked resolutely at Duncan, anything to fight more blushing. Why was it so hard for her to act normal?

But was it her fault there were really far too many handsome men roaming the world outside Highever. She truly regretted never venturing much outside its walls. Perhaps she'd be properly prepared against leers and the like. Ho hum.

The atmosphere around the campfire seemed to change suddenly. Duncan cast an unreadable look at each of the recruits. "You have all made it here. You see that an army has been brought here to fight a battle of darkspawn, the likes the world has not seen in four centuries." He quickly turned his back to them, the fire was more than happy to have his attention. "We Grey Wardens are truly the only ones capable of ending a blight. It is a responsibility we have carried since the first of our kind. Now, however, there are only a few wardens left in all of Fereldan and you three may yet join our ranks. Yet…"

Alistair cleared his throat, "There is one final step you must take before you are welcomed into our brotherhood. _Our_ order." Erilys couldn't help but notice the pride that shone in his firelit face.

The lady politely and meekly raised a hand, "What would you have us do, my lord?"

Two simpler words should not have been capable of sending her hairs to stand on end, nor fill her with cold and twisted dread.

"The Joining."

* * *

This snippet is dedicated to my dear and lovely best friend, Icey_cold. You are my muse's inspiration and without you, her fire would have burnt out long ago. Thank you for being such an important factor in my life. I love you, dearly.


	3. Snippet 3 Tender is the Heart

**A Lady and Her Gentleman**

This is a series of snippets in no particular story order regarding the romance between the newly recruited Lady Erilys Cousland and the Grey Warden Alistair. **Caution Heavy End Game Spoilers**

_**Snippet 3: Tender is the Heart**_

Darkspawn. They seemed to swarm sporadically, never giving the haggard warriors a chance for desired rest. Just as the last would fall more would suddenly join in. The battle continued on for longer than Erilys originally hoped. She badly wanted to rip off her unforgiving helmet to wipe the sweat that was trickling down into her eyes. With the Cousland shield and sword in hand she continued to fight off the wretched fiends. Her brow furrowed as she noticed her fellow Warden was nearly overpowered till he barely managed to call on whatever strength he had left and managed to shift his shield against the darkspawn's torso and sent it flying.

"Alistair, we need to rejoin the others. This scouting has cost us too much. We should have brought Leliana… or Zevran." Erilys barely managed to duck a swing from a crude sword, the metal scraping her helmet. She grimaced.

"I guess that shows you. 'Never listen to Alistair! His ideas are _so_ terrible and not well thought out!" Metal upon metal sparked the dark caverns.

"If you are trying to convince me you do not have what it takes to be a king you could pick a better time, my sweet."

"'_My sweet'_ is it?" Alistair chuckled darkly as he continued to fight. "See? I knew you _cared_ about me."

"If I were you I'd think twice about putting words into my mouth."

"You're right. I know _exactly_ what I'd want to p-"

"Hurlock! Behind you!" Alistair raised his shield behind him, blocking the Darkspawn's failed attempt as he swung at a genlock before him.

As she turned to face her own attackers, a jagged axe caught the bottom of her helmet and sent it flying, pulling a hair or two in the process. She winced but was somewhat thankful to be rid of the cumbersome hunk of metal. "Filthy bastards… Why won't this come to an end!" Her frustration gave her new zeal, each of her swings becoming more powerful than the last. She'd spin on one armored heel, slashing a foe before her, blocking what fierce blows she could with her shield.

As she parried one attack, she wasn't prepared for the sword that managed to slide upside her head, tearing off the leather band that held her braided hair in place. "I'll not have you take my head!" Her long braid swung about as she continued to fight. She was furious but in her anger Erilys didn't notice the odd change in the darkspawn. With a monstrous shriek one grabbed her sword arm while a genlock hit the back of her knee with the blunt of its axe.

With a frustrated yelp the battle maiden fell to floor, "Alistair!" Her terrified screams filled the cavern as she helplessly tried to get up and away from the grabbing and pawing of the fiends around her. Were they holding her in place? All she could see around her were the faces of the fiendish dark spawn, each one just as grotesque as the next. The Hurlock that brought her down crouched over her body, its alien gaze peering into her angry eyes as its tongue flicked between sharp teeth.

Its hands firmly held her in place as it leaned forward, alarm began to rise inside the woman beneath. Suddenly the creature began to sniff around her face and Erilys lost all her bravado and calm. "Alistair! Please!" Her terrified screams felt as if they were tearing at her throat, she began to struggle but her sudden resistance was rewarded with one of the malicious creatures stomping on her limbs in response. The Hurlock grabbed her face, Erilys shut her eyes as she defiantly tried to bite its fingers in protest but it painfully forced its dirty fingers into her cheeks forcing her mouth open. She helplessly cried out looking for any sort of answer. Where was Alistair? The Darkspawn began to convulse over her face, its mouth hovering over her own, eyes rolling back into its head, and she couldn't help but despair. A faint whisper of a whimper escaped her lips as the creature began to open its maw.

"Get back!" Frantic chants filled the air as two glyphs of light drew themselves beneath the monstrous horde and the fallen warden. A flash of light sparked between the two and an explosion of light bathed over them all. Everything it touched was held still. Erilys was stuck gazing into the eyes of her assailant, monstrous and so alien… Oh how she desperately wanted to look away!

She felt powerful arms quickly pull her from beneath the heavy Hurlock as she watched Zevran expertly weave between each monster. The elven assassin had no trouble slitting their throats with a poisoned dagger in each hand as he passed every single one. As each one fell to the floor, the sound of them falling became increasingly distant and muted. Erilys felt the paralysis wear off and she drearily looked up to Alistair, her gaze empty, as he continued to firmly hold her and brought them both to safety, and her gaze was empty. With each time she blinked, the weary lady warden could feel herself being pulled farther away until finally nothing. Nothing but darkness.

As her eyes fluttered open, a flickering ball of light slowly brought her out of her dreamless sleep. A solitary candle was lit on a stone carved cabinet. Her eyes traced the archaic design until they lingered off onto the person who had been sleeping in the stout chair beside it.

Alistair's head was leaning to one side, his arms were folded over his chest and legs stretched out before him. As Erilys slowly began to sit up, he stirred; his sudden movement caused her to halt. What could she possibly be afraid of, she wondered. She pushed the coverlets aside revealing that someone had dressed her in a shift, though it fit tightly and it was far too short for her modesty. A dwarven shift. She couldn't help but smile as she placed her feet on the cold smooth stone floor.

A curious hand reached for her swaying braid, the length of it reaching just past her bottom. Someone had taken care to re-braid it, leaving no stray hair for her to find. It felt nice to be so well taken care of; she reminded herself that she would have to thank whoever was responsible. Erilys reached for the coverlets and wrapped it around her chest to hide her bare legs.

She quietly stepped towards the sleeping Alistair, careful to keep each cautious step in rhythm with his slow breathing. The Lady Cousland knelt beside him and she couldn't help but feel a welcoming warmth wash over her. How long had he stayed by her side playing the ever vigilant watchman? It was becoming harder to ignore the growing feelings within her beating heart. She couldn't help but muse how far they had come and how much they had been forced to grow in only a few months.

Erilys knew she had grown more insular as time had progressed but she couldn't help but over think things lately. It seemed every decision that had to be made would greatly affect her allies years to come and she was finding the burden more and more cumbersome for her tired shoulders to bear alone. As she continued to watch Alistair she couldn't help but feel thankful for his odd wit, the way he would deflect hard questions with humor. Most importantly of all, she was glad he was able to not let her forget how to laugh.

She placed a cool hand on his forearm, relishing the warmth his body was so eager to give. Slowly he was beckoned from his sleep, his brown eyes slowly opening. All of a sudden his eyes grew wide and next she knew he held her tightly. "Oh thank the Maker." His voice was shaky and full of such relief it overwhelmed her. Why was he so concerned? She savored the feel of being pressed against Alistair's form, her eyes closed wishing only that this could continue on. However it could not.

"You were worried for me?" Her voice was small and she gently pushed against his embrace with her fingertips, the gesture was not lost on him. Hesitantly, he released her and his arms were left to hang by his sides helplessly, his fists clenching and unclenching. It was clear to her it was something he had not wanted to do. Badly.

"Of course I was worried for you! You fell as limp as an Orlesian noodle in my arms. Here I thought it might be because you were swooning over being held so tightly by yours truly but even I knew you were exhausted. That battle nearly saw the end of you." Confusion addled her mind. She remembered battling darkspawn in the deep roads however the end of the battle was left in darkness.

"It did?"

Alistair openly stared back at her; curiosity and uncertainty were painted too clearly in his eyes for Erilys's taste and comfort. Her hold on the coverlets tightened. "You… don't remember?"

"I remember fighting yes… but afterwards nothing comes to mind. It is all blank," her brow furrowed as she tried to conjure up any trace of memory her mind was willing to give. Nothing.

Alistair quickly searched the room, frantically searching for something which only served to alarm Erilys, "I don't readily know what happened myself. I only know you were completely covered and surrounded by Darkspawn. They had you pinned to the floor, my lady. Ah here we go." His hands grabbed her own, his thumb sliding over her knuckles as he placed a small mirror in her palm. Her green eyes peered up at him with pensive curiosity. "Just... take a look."

Tentatively she brought the mirror up, unsure of just what her reflection would greet her with. She shut her eyes just before her face came to view. "I… You have me terrified Alistair. You aren't supposed to make a lady think twice before looking at her own reflection." She hoped she didn't sound as scared as she felt.

She felt his presence behind her and his palm held her hand grasping the mirror in place. "Don't be afraid, Lady Erilys," his unexpected whisper was so tender. "I'm here. I assure you, your beauty remains unmatched in all of Ferelden."

"Is it?"

The throaty whisper caressed the back of her neck, "Oh yes." A silent moment passed between the two. There was so much she wanted to do to this man.

"I think… I am going to open my eyes now." She hesitantly licked her lips.

"I'll be here."

She opened her eyes bit by bit, her reflection slowly coming into view. Her lips parted at the sight that greeted her. Cruel dark bruises mocked her, the dark blemishes vulgarly caressing each cheek. Alistair's face was beside her own; his expression was solemn as he watched Erilys slide unsure fingertips over one of her stained cheeks.

"I… do not remember what caused this. Why don't I remember?" She turned to look at him with a helpless plea in her eyes. She looked around the room frantically, "How long have I been unconscious?" _What happened? What happened? What happened?_ Such thoughts were racing within her tired mind.

Just as Alistair opened his mouth to answer, furious scratching and pawing alerted them. Whining and sniffing begged someone to open the door, finally Atticus resorted to futilely dig into the stone. "Oh my poor sweet pup. Let him in Alistair lest he chew his way through the stone to get to me."

The man decided it was best to hold his tongue as he opened the door, fur and muscle flying by him, soaring to the woman who clutched at her coverlets.

The mabari hound flew towards the woman and she gladly caught the overgrown dog in her arms, her unthinking action dropping the coverlets to the floor. She missed Alistair's strangled choking sound as she couldn't help but giggle as Atticus whined as he licked her face. "It's okay my sweeting… I won't be leaving your side yet." Atticus wiggled out of her arms and hopped on her bed, rolling around and biting into a pillow.

"What a naughty beast! You know better than to climb onto strangers' beds and make a mess of the linens!" She climbed onto the bed, kneeling and bending forward as she reached for her hound, her shift inching ever higher. Each time she'd grab for him he'd playfully roll out of her reach, wagging his little tail. Oh how pleased he was!

"Sweet Maker's breath," his whisper went unnoticed. Alistair had always prided himself in being a gentleman. As his eyes lingered over the curve of a calve, he gulped. His unsteady gaze slid along bended knee to admire the milky smoothness of a thigh and finally caressing the hint of pert roundness just on the edge of unveiling… No, he was no gentleman, he was a man held captive by more primitive desires.

A leather gauntleted hand patted his shoulder, forcing him out of his lurid trance. Zevran sauntered past him, picked up the forgotten coverlet and placed it over Erily's backside. Sure enough her back went straight and she twirled around, coverlets twisted around her as she stared back in ladylike horror.

Zevran merely bowed, the impish grin on his face proudly displayed. "I come in to check up on the dear sweet lady and you are nearly _laid bare_ for the _entire world_ to see! Tsk, tsk, tsk. Had you not fought off my advances weeks prior I'm afraid I would have slithered up behind you and showed you a thing or two of '_Antivan Delights_.'" He winked at Alistair, who was doing all he could to fight off the blush that was doing its best to creep up his cheeks.

"Antivan Delights sound like candy." Erilys glowered at him as Atticus curled up beside her, his tongue hanging to the side as he panted.

"Oh trust me, they are just as sweet, but covering your delightful skin was not why I have come. Leliana and Wynne wanted me to check up on you since Atticus had galloped off once. We assumed he heard you moving about."

Her hand idly stroked her mabari's fur, "Tell them I will be out shortly. Just give me time to recollect myself if you would? We'll be leaving to find this paragon Bhelen asks of us… again."

With a gallant bow, Zevran made his exit, "As my ladyship wishes."

"Go with him Atticus." With a sad sigh the mabari hound hopped off the bed, turning once to look at his dear master, then trotting off.

Alistair cleared his throat, "Well I better leave you to it then. I'm glad y-"

"Stay." Such a simple word and it was enough to stop him completely. "Sit with me for just a moment if you would." Her eyes pleaded with his, "Please?" He regarded her for a second and nodded. He couldn't help but think of how she looked like a child, sitting on the edge of some bed with blankets all around her.

"Does this mean I can brag to one and all about how the sweet Lady Erilys invited me to stay in her bed chambers before setting off to battle one fine night in Orzammar?" His grin was devious and she could only respond with a laugh.

"Only if you keep it in context," she smoothed a strand of her hair behind an ear as she looked up to him. Alistair sat on the edge of the bed his forearms resting on his thighs as he held his gaze locked toward whatever object was before him.

"We don't have many instances where we are alone and I… I wanted to thank you."

He arched an eyebrow as he turned his gaze towards her, "Thank _me_, my lady? Whatever for? I hope this isn't for-" Erilys brushed her lips against his cheek, the abrupt gesture muting his words altogether. "Oh."

"Your rose is in a press." She clasped her hands together before her as she somberly studied the candle's flame. "I couldn't bear the thought of its petals being ruined or lost as we continued on. I wanted to preserve it because… because it meant- no… _means_ so much to me."

"Does it?" A small smile graced his lips.

"It just ah… surprised me. In a good way I mean. I am sorry. I never was good at expressing things such as this." Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. "I lose most if not all form of articulation and I find it hard to grasp the right words." She looked at him pleadingly, "I hope you understand what I am trying to convey."

"Now isn't this a sight. The proud and mighty Lady Erilys Cousland defeated by incomplete sentences and fragmented speech. However shall our group of merry men and oh that Morrigan person carry on? Whatever shall we do?" He placed a hand over his chest, lashes fluttering as he fell back on the bed.

She reached for a hand and squeezed it gently, "I will do what I can to make sure whatever happened will not ever repeat itself again. I… I don't like not knowing what caused these bruises. All I ask, sweet Alistair, is that we not let ourselves get into that sort of position ever again. Promise?"

He abruptly sat up, he reached for her hand about to bring it toward his mouth but instead he pulled her forward, his lips gently caressing her cheek mindful of the bruise there. "I promise." With that he got to his feet and walked briskly to the door, "We shall be awaiting your orders, _my lady_." She was finally alone.

She fell back into her coverlets, looking into the mirror studying her reflection. Her fingers lingered where she could still feel the whisper of a kiss, her eyes grew cold as her fingers twisted into a fist. The nail scratched her skin. "Why… Why can I not remember?"

The truth regarding what could have happened was far more ugly and terrifying than what anyone could ever dare imagine.

* * *

Thank you for the kind words and encouragement. Playing Assassin's Creed 2 was a bit of a distraction. Its soundtrack is very awesome and I urge all who haven't heard the inspiring music to do so. :) Thanks goes out to my dearest Icey_Cold. I know I thanked you last snippet but I feel I owe you yet another! 3


	4. Snippet 4 A Royal Confession

**A Lady and Her Gentleman**

This is a series of snippets in no particular story order regarding the romance between the newly recruited Lady Erilys Cousland and the Grey Warden Alistair. **Caution Heavy End Game Spoilers**

_**Snippet 4: A Royal Confession**_

It had been two days since she had purchased the wooden press. She had been so surprised and delighted that the merchant caravan happened to have such a device in stock. Such an odd thing for a warrior woman, who was more than likely destined to travel Ferelden three times over, to ever consider buying. Those precious sovereigns could have been better spent on food supplies or bandages. Perhaps she could have purchased more elfroot for much needed poultices. Her gloved hand tenderly caressed the wooden device beneath her pack as she mechanically walked in formation.

Like the fragile fluttering of a butterfly's wings, the precious memory flickered in her mind's eye. The night sky had been delicately painted with sparkling stars and silver laced clouds, and the moon, a simple disc of marble, was proudly displayed for all to see. The beautiful nightscape had been as clear as crystal and the gentle breeze just as crisp.

She had been inside her tent most of the evening, polishing her armor 'til the Cousland crest shone proudly. A fingertip lovingly caressed the tip of the delicate laurel, and Erilys vowed she would always proudly wear her family symbol for all to see. No one would dare forget the tragedy of the Couslands, not if she could help it.

As Erilys exited her tent, her growling tummy begging for some food, she was greeted by Alistair's back. He had quickly pivoted, his reddened face interchanging emotions of surprise, bashfulness, and anxiety as he fumbled about with whatever words the Maker was willing to give. She had bit her lip as she desperately tried to stifle the giggles from pouring forth, failing horribly.

In her hands the warden-templar had placed a single rose, the lush petals a deep red. Such a simple and darling act and it had left her utterly speechless. As she carefully thumbed over a petal, the woman could only regard him with open mouthed wonder as he continued on. He couldn't possibly have known how much it had meant to her and she had been too awestruck to properly thank him. With a shy smile she had muttered a quick thanks and re-entered her tent, the need for food quickly forgotten.

The young warden had never thought herself capable of inspiring poems or the like; not even daring to think herself capable of earning a single man's admiration, but that very night she had been given, what Erilys thought a gentle reminder, the sweetest gift of all. She had been recognized as a beautiful woman in the purest and most innocent of ways.

As her mind pitter pattered back into the realm of reality, the landscape of Redcliffe had come into view, the comely castle stood as a solitary guardian over the afternoon's horizon. Ghostly words began trickling through her thoughts; she remembered how much she had begged her father to tell her of the dead Queen Rowan's home. Rowan, the noble warrior woman who had fought beside her betrothed, was a woman she had looked up to. The legendary woman was just a smidgen shy of reaching the pedestal height of her late mother.

With light steps and a smile, Leliana trotted alongside Erilys. Her blue eyes were sparkling with girlish mischief; the bard's musical giggle earned the sister an uncertain sidelong glance. "Something on your mind, Leliana? Or are you going to continue giggling at me every time I should be lost in thought?"

"Oh _this_ is a good sign!" She entwined her arm with Erilys, the gesture confusing the poor warden all the more. Hushed accented whispers tickled the perplexed lady's ear, "You _like_ him do you not?"

Alarm! Shock! No means of escape!

Erilys quickly looked over her shoulder, daring a glance at the templar who followed not too far behind them. His brown eyes met hers; an eager smile quickly played itself upon his lips as he gave a small wave. The lady warden quickly returned her troubled eyes before her. Perhaps he hadn't seen, what she swore were obvious tell tale signs of being distressed and flustered. Wide eyes, red cheeks, gaping mouth.

She struggled to regain her composure, clearing her throat and mind. "_He_ is someone I consider a dear, dear friend. We're like… blood siblings! We have lost much and, and _why_ are you giving me that look?"

"You are _almost_ speaking too loudly, Lady Erilys." Leliana teasingly pointed over her shoulder with a knowing smirk.

"Maybe I am." Her armor creaked as her shoulders sagged, her plate covered feet suddenly felt so very heavy.

"So when will you tell him?"

Lady Cousland pinched the bridge of her nose, "There is nothing to tell, I'm afraid."

"Aw…" Leliana could only shake her head in disappointment as she disengaged herself from Erilys, "That is too bad. I surely had thought you might feel the same way he feels for you."

_What? _That earned the babbling bard a skeptical look, "He's just a nice man when he wants to be is all…"

"Surely you are joking, no? You're just as oblivious as he, aren't you? Aww, this is _too_ precious! You know, I am surprised you hadn't heard the conversations he would have with Wynne and I. Him asking if ladies preferred men like Zevran, Wynne having to make sure his eyes stayed fastened within his handsome head, and a week ago he had asked how you tell someone how th-"

"Enough! I… Even if he and I were to share the same sort o-of thing, desire… whatever, we have to remain focused on our task. Infatuations may cost us dearly a-and I have no want in me that seeks to cloud another's judgment. He's handsome and funny and all those things that make a woman feel at an utter loss for words while she does everything in her power to keep from imagining what it would be like to see the man beneath the armor laid bare but… b-b-but," Fiercely she blushed as she realized her poor choice in words, "Forget it. I'm done."

Leliana arched an eyebrow, folding her arms as she smiled in triumph, "So you _do_ like him then." Erilys hated that there was no question in that statement. Fact indeed.

"Infatuated. Maybe."

"Your secret is safe with me," the girlish giggling drifted off as Leliana, much to the warden's relief, fell back into formation.

The poor woman didn't know what to do with herself. The clink of armor suddenly rising beside her, gave her pause, she fought the sudden dread that hammered within the pit of her stomach. "Let us march onward; I want to see Redcliffe before night falls."

Perhaps it was the terse words and her piercing gaze towards their destination that halted further conversation, much to her relief no more words were exchanged. Maker help her. She hesitantly stole a glance at the templar marching beside her, only to meet his gaze. With an unsteady smile she nodded forward, the intensity of his gaze shook her to the core. By the maker she hated how helpless and defenseless she suddenly felt!

Just as they reached the weathered gates of Redcliffe, the evening sun's light painting all it touched a lovely golden hue, a lone man had ran up to greet them. Much to his dismay they had not heard of the terrible things that had recently began to plague the town and castle. Not only was the unfortunate Arl at death's door but the town had been fighting countless corpses until the light of dawn! The young man eagerly beckoned them to follow, to meet with the Arl's younger brother, Bann Teagan.

The telltale signs of battle were all around them; dried blood on buildings and broken fences marking where someone met their untimely end to the haggard looks of those that had the strength to continue on unsure if tonight was to be their last. At the center of the village, strained shouting could be heard as men trained, though it seemed the men did so half heartedly. The stench of the dead who had yet to be laid to rest was a cruel reminder of what was on the horizon. The empty hopeless looks in all that they passed told them one simple thing.

These people didn't think they would survive.

As they neared the chantry's door, Erilys was pulled abruptly to a stop, Alistair's gauntleted hand holding her back in mid-step. The emotions held within his troubled eyes were tumultuous, matching the skipping heartbeats that fluttered frantically beneath her breastplate. Her voice was gentle, "Is… everything alright, Alistair? Do you need a moment?"

He hesitantly licked his lips, "You could say that. There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Her brow furrowed as panic washed over her. Was he about to confess his feelings? In front of everyone? Erilys quickly withdrew her sword from its sheath, alarming the poor man while Leliana sighed and covered her face with her hands. "Go on."

"A-are you serious? Pulling out a sword and you haven't even heard what I'm going to say!"

Erilys offered up a timid smile, as she positioned the sword before her, holding it as an old woman would a cane. "Don't worry this is for my own protection." Falling headfirst while knees suddenly became jelly was something she dearly didn't want. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. "Alright, I'm ready. Go on." She smiled sweetly, her heartbeat thundering in her head.

"You really are crazy, you know that? I hope the taint within you hasn't gone and addled that pretty little head of yours." She glowered as the grip on the hilt of her sword tightened, "O-okay, okay! I get it!" Steadily he inhaled, preparing himself while Erilys and the others stood before him. He cleared his throat, his voice growing less timid with each syllable. "Well you know all I've told you regarding being raised and being sent to the chantry… The real reason Arl Eamon took such an interest in me is because I am the last of the Theirin bloodline, as of Cailan's death, anyway. Surprise!"

"You're _what_?" Erilys staggered back, the tip of her sword dragging along with her as she shook her head disbelievingly. Alistair was there before her, suddenly a stranger. Her hushed whisper trembled, "You are a king's bastard? _Maric's_… bastard?"

He gestured about helplessly, "Yes, I uh wanted to tell you but there never seemed a right time to, you know, throw it in."

Her gaze fluttered about, catching glimpses of a dog barking at a crow, a wounded man doing his best to show he still had fight in him yet and so on. It was so hard for her to try to make sense of it all. "You could have kept this secret with you to the grave and none of us could have known the wiser." Her sword slipped from her hand, the clattering of stone and metal piercing the thick tension. "W-why say anything now? I… I do not understand."

Alistair regarded her with an unsure smile, "You mean with my half-brother dead and the queen's father wanting to play around as regent? It is bound to come up. _Here_ especially. I-" he gingerly placed a palm on her shoulder urging her to look up into his earnest eyes so she could be made to understand it all. "I wanted to be the one to tell you. I wasn't going to allow anyone else the opportunity. I _swea_r it."

The lady warden dropped her gaze to stare at the tip of her plated boots, hesitantly willing her mouth to speak, "I… cannot fault you for your secrets. I, I can hardly imagine the weight of the burden you must bear."

"Burden?"

"You are a candidate for the throne, what else?"

With frantic steps he paced about, "No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Stop right there with that line of thinking! Orphaned bastards bred from starry eyed serving girls have no claim on any throne, much_ less _a Grey Warden."

She could scarcely believe how he wanted absolutely no part of his birthright. Unless Maric sired any other bastards, this lone man that stood before her was the very last! Last of the royal bloodline! Surely he knew that between Teryn Loghain, Arl Eamon, and himself his was the strongest claim to the throne, by far. Suddenly lightening struck her thoughts, the pure obviousness of it all dumbfounded her, as she finally realized that _this_ particular secret that he had guarded almost his entire life was why he was so adamant at handing over the reins of leadership to her own inexpert hands.

Slowly she picked her words carefully, "I believe I understand… Though I am hurt you could not tell me sooner. Still, I am rather glad you were willing to tell me at all."

On bended knee, Alistair picked up her family's long sword, offering it up to her with an apologetic bow of his head, "I am terribly sorry if I am unable to make amends though I offer up this sword to thee to do battle and should thy sweet lady see me unfit for forgiveness all you need to do is swing but once with thy blade and rid me of my terrible existence forever."

She merely blinked at him, "You're being silly."

Suddenly he was shouting wildly, wincing and shaking in false agony. "Take the blade, my lady! Take the blade! Oh it stings my wicked, wicked hands for the guilty cannot hope to wield such a holy weapon of someone who is the epitome of divine goodness and_ beauty_! Oh how it burns! The pain!"

"Cut off his head," Morrigan chimed, walking past them toward the shore of Lake Calenhad as she turned a page of her precious black grimoire.

Alistair couldn't help but glower in the witch's general direction but quickly returned his gaze upward toward his leader. How charming he grinned! "Just so you know if I die you lose all chances of getting to intimately know the last of the Theirins. I hear we're quite-" Erilys snatched the blade from his hands, lightly smacking the top of his head with the flat of her sword. "Ow! Hey!"

"I shall take this sword and spare you from the horrendous pain you suffered wielding it. All I ask in return is your compliance that if I should think you a better candidate than all the others, regarding the crown of Ferelden, you shall not think ill of me. And… accept my protection as your servant and loyal bodyguard, _my prince_. For it would break my heart if I were to lose so dear a man and friend such as you." She pointed the tip of her sword toward his nose, eyebrow arched and face solemn. She was quite pleased with how stern she sounded.

He rolled his eyes as he shook his head, mirth weaved between his words. "Ugh when you put it like that it would make me a monster among men if word spread wide that I was solely responsible for shattering the pure heart of such a beautiful woman." He gallantly bowed as he returned to his feet, "You have my compliance for now, though please be warned should the terms of taking the crown, Maker help us should it come to that, are not to my liking I simply won't do it." His grin suddenly became wicked as his eyes twinkled mischievously, "So a_ personal_ bodyguard?"

Erilys simply coughed.

Leliana clapped her hands as she smiled prettily at the both of them, "I am so happy you both were able to work this out! For a minute there I thought you were going to swing your blade with all your might! Leaving Poor Alistair's head to clumsily roll down the steps and along the moist grass with permanent defeat forever etched on his sad face."

The man weakly laughed as he eyed the sword, still unsheathed, held within the lady warden's delicate grasp. "You wouldn't have really cut off my head… would you? Could you?"

Erilys could only smile brightly as she pushed the sturdy doors to the chantry open, "Come, come we have been dawdling far too long and Bann Teagan will think us poor guests if we are to keep him waiting."

Playfully he regarded her cautiously as he walked past her, "I'm keeping an eye on you."

Softly she laughed as her smile widened, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Walking through the main chantry hall quickly doused whatever anger she had been feeling. There were so many children! Huddled with their siblings or pawing at their mother's skirts, their laughter and sobbing echoed amongst the ambience. The elderly looked on bleakly, unsure of what to make of the wardens and their companions.

At the center of it all stood a man, garbed in handsome noble clothes despite the shield and sword at his disposal. Bann Teagan, who calmly smiled despite the grim atmosphere, eagerly awaited to hear what word they had to bring.

* * *

I spent most of last night covered in blankets, sniffling and coughing through out the late ours of the night to get this done. This is dedicated to all those who push themselves despite having the common sense to take needed medicine and get a decent amout of sleep to work on their beloved fandoms. I -know- we are legion! I hope you all enjoy this snippet!


	5. Snippet 5 Deflowering a Rose

**A Lady and Her Gentleman**

_This is a series of snippets in no particular story regarding the romance between the newly recruited Lady Erilys Cousland and the new Grey Warden Alistair. **Caution Heavy End Game Spoilers**_

**Snippet 5: Deflowering a Rose**

She had been sitting by the fire sipping the delicious broth of the rabbit stew, savoring the meal for as long as she could. She shivered slightly in the night air, tendrils of water dripping down the back of her neck from her hair. She had hastily braided and pinned her wet locks as she dried off from her bath, but was now regretting not letting her hair dry out as it lay piled up cold and damp against her skin. Yet Erilys was so grateful for the pond. First thing she did as soon as camp was made was to make her way to the water's edge and bathe thoroughly. Leliana had been kind enough to help her get a sheet hanging between two trees that stood guard. The arrows she had used held both the fabric and her need for privacy.

Seeing Erilys splash and scrub with ease, the other ladies had followed suit, each thankful for their chance to be clean again after many days without a decent bath. Oh the sweet vanities of a woman!

Erilys wrapped her worn cloak around her tightly, hoping the attempt would keep the chill air at bay as each drop of soup warmed her insides. The soup itself was creamy with potatoes and carrots, hints of onion and salt and completed with a dash of pepper to spice it up. Oh how it warmed and soothed her! There was just so much to do and she was so very thankful that tonight she could unwind for just a small tiny moment.

Leliana gently plucked at the strings of her lute, humming along to a sweet melody that filled the air. Oghren was passed out on the furs just outside his tent with his favored flask in hand. The poor, poor little man had barely made it inside his tent, a new record Erilys playfully mused to herself as she giggled.

"There you are," The all too familiar voice of the man she had come to love dearly beckoned her to look over her shoulder. There was something about this man, how he always wore so plainly the emotions that swam about within. Each was proudly displayed on his handsome face.

Love, fright, and uncertainty.

His hair was freshly wet and he had taken the time to shave the usual unwanted facial hair, save for the lone patch of hair on his chin that insisted on tickling her when they kissed. Perhaps he had thought bathing would have calmed whatever nerves were frayed, though she had sworn that they were finally past all the childish awkwardness. Or perhaps he had simply needed a good bathing like the rest of them. Still she couldn't help but smile up at him, they were wonderfully awkward together and if it were to never change she wouldn't mind one bit! His sweet smile was all she needed. And his kisses, she wouldn't dare forget those kisses. By the Maker, that man knew how to use that tongue.

She carefully placed her bowl on the ground as she smiled at him adoringly. "Sit with me, the fire isn't enough to warm my poor chilled bones all by itself." Erilys gently patted the ground beside her, shivering for dramatic effect.

Instead he offered a hand, "I'd much prefer if you would walk with me." As he pulled his lady love to her feet, he gently brushed his lips against her cheek. "The moon is so bright and clear and… I thought, well, how romantic would it be if we walked between the trees, the firelight at our backs and whispered sweet nothings back and forth."

"Aw… Well I would be delighted," She couldn't help but fall into his gaze, openly now that they finally knew how the other felt (much to her maidenly happiness!), but she noticed the trepidation that lingered behind it. He licked his lips nervously when he sweetly entwined his fingers with hers and she frowned. How sweaty his palms were! "Alistair," she regarded him with suspicion and concern, "are you feeling well?"

The templar-warden merely laughed, "When in your company? Never! I am constantly fighting a losing battle to hold you in my arms and kiss you 'til there isn't anything left but smoldering ash and bone! Isn't that terrible! I can only kiss you but with a fraction of passion lest you crumble in my tight embrace!"

She bit her lip as she giggled, following his lead as they walked towards the woods, "What a dear and sweet man that you are!" Gently her fingers squeezed his arm, "If my death were to come through one of your kisses I must confess I would die the happiest woman in all of Ferelden. Twice over. Why," her voice became a hushed whisper, "I dare say you nearly killed me last night! Oh how my insides burned! I, er…wait, that is not what I wanted to say…"

He quickly coughed as she cleared her throat.

She laid her head against his shoulder coyly as they walked, and from behind the trees emerged a tent and a campfire begging to be lit. Her brow furrowed as she laughed, "What is this?"

"Stay right here," He quickly kissed her cheek as he hurriedly disengaged himself, setting to work with the flint and tender until finally fire spread across the all too eager wood.

Slowly Alistair ascended to his feet, his shoulders straight and his fists clenching and unclenching as his eyes stared transfixed on the dancing flames before him. With quiet steps among the cool wet grass, Erilys slowly slid her hand between his shoulder blades, sighing contently as she watched the fire along with him. "It truly is a wonderful night."

"Yes… it is." Carefully he stepped back and faced her, taking her cold small hands in his, she wasn't prepared for the naked vulnerability that he regarded her with. The firelight served only to accentuate the unease in his troubled brown eyes.

"A-alistair, darling… You look as if you fear the ground will open up and swallow you whole." She wanted to brush her fingertips against his cheeks but the grip in which he held her hands refused them to leave his grasp.

With a breath he hardly knew he was holding he nervously chuckled, "Oh believe me, I am doing my best to keep myself together but I must confess… You, my dear sweet lady, make it very hard to keep all manner of composure."

Apologetically she smiled at him, "I am just a woman, Alistair. I promise I'll not hurt you."

"Oh you say that now, but the next moment you could be throwing those burning logs of fire my way as I try and make my escape to the main camp. Dodging pieces of blazing wood would be a new thing, but not something I'd be looking forward to I'm afraid."

"So? What is it? What has you so nervous that makes your palms all sweaty?"

Gently he rubbed a thumb over a knuckle as his gaze held her captive, "I keep rehearsing this in my head but every time I try and think of any way to say it, I am lost. There are no words that come to me as would an inspired bard. You leave me at such a disadvantage that I…" He nervously shifted his balance from leg to leg, "I am still just bumbling Alistair who is somehow lucky enough to have a woman who looks at him with such dear sweetness. You gift me with your kisses and I can't help but feel, wow, how lucky I am that you care for me and well… it…"

How positively wonderful this man was all that she could think. Patiently she waited for the words to come to him. She studied the worry line across his brow, how the fire accented the blond in his hair, and how badly she wanted to kiss those nervous lips of his.

With a shaky breath he found his words, "I would like to lay with you. Tonight."

Her green eyes widened, and she felt a snake colored with embarrassment, glee, and trepidation tightly wrap itself around her throat. Her heart was suddenly thundering in her ears, and she firmly held on to his hands fearing she'd fall to her doom if she didn't. "O-oh Alistair. Are you sure? I, I mean well of course you're sure. You wouldn't have asked and be looking at me like that waiting for a yes or no. Oh Maker," tightly she squeezed her eyes shut. "Why?"

"_Why_?" The light laughter did little to settle either of their nerves, "I hope you're joking." He tugged on her hands, pulling Erilys into an embrace as he rest his chin atop her red head. "I've never felt this way about anyone and not knowing what the future holds for us I, I couldn't take a chance that… some battle of sorts would end it. There wasn't any woman who held such a tight hold on my heart and there never was a woman who I wanted to give myself to so _completely_ and _utterly_. Until now." He leaned back, carefully tilting her chin up with a fingertip. The naked adoration in which he showered her nearly killed her. "Until _you_, my lady."

If the day she had met Alistair someone told her that this was the man she would give her heart as well as her maidenhead to, she would have died from nervous giggling, though most likely due to suffocation. Yet here she was, in love, despite all that time before trying to keep their relationship strictly platonic and duty based. All it took was one impulsive kiss and she had eagerly thrown that fool notion to the wind.

She gingerly placed a palm on his cheek, caressing the freshly shaven skin that she so delighted in touching. Slowly Erilys closed her eyes, dark lashes fanning across her pale cheeks, and nodded once.

"Yes? Is that-? That is a yes, Right? Oh thank the Maker! You know I, I've never done this before and-"

"Neither have I."

"What? But I thought you said th-"

"There has been no one." Erilys shook her head, biting her lip as she rest her forehead against his chest, "Though one did try and he earned the scorn of my brother and father both. I remember he had heard from one of our servants that my mother had finally talked with me about my duties as a wife to her husband and- well, there you have it."

And there they stood, the fire crackling the only ambience amidst the silence.

With a gentle tug, Alistair beckoned his love to follow, pulling her before him within the tent he had secretly put together. Within, she couldn't help but notice two bedrolls neatly laid out side by side, and suddenly she didn't know what to do with herself. As she curiously looked over her shoulder she noticed Alistair was already busy unbuckling his armor. She held back a whimper as she regarded her own fingers, realizing she had completely forgotten how to use them.

The thud of scale armor falling to the floor behind her sent her into a panic. Helplessly, her fingers began to fumble with a buckle, though with how badly her fingers were shaking she had finally decided it was best to forego the matter completely and begin with her hair.

As she began pulling the pins from her blood red hair, her long braid slowly beginning to uncoil, bare arms encircled her. Her curious eyes couldn't help but watch Alistair's hands set to working on the buckles she had eagerly abandoned.

Just as her braided hair slipped free of the last pin, swinging victoriously behind her, the templar-warden unfastened the last buckle holding her breastplate together. She gave a gentle nod just over the shoulder, her eyes politely trying to focus on the lights the campfire played upon the tent's wall as Alistair's arms retreated behind her.

She slid the piece of leather and metal over her head, setting it to the side and she found that slipping out of her leather boots and pants was far easier to deal with. The cool air kissed her skin eagerly as more skin became exposed and when the noble woman was left in nothing but her small clothes and linen shirt she felt a slight tug on her braid.

As Erilys pulled apart her shirt, she could feel her hair slowly being unraveled until she finally felt the last leather band unfasten and her damp hair fall around her. His steady breathing was all she could hear and it was more than she could bear, as she felt the strands being studied through thumb and forefinger. She had never felt more on display and she hadn't even dropped the linen shirt off her arms.

Shyly she pulled the folds of her shirt together, steeling herself with courage as she slowly turned to face Alistair behind her. Her eyes focused on the strands of her hair still within his grasp. Did he see the unease and fear that were swimming within her, she wondered? His face was completely alien, his dark eyes filled with lust and wonder while she noticed there was an odd calm to his smile, and it both alarmed her and sent a bolt of lightning from her heart straight to the odd throbbing she was beginning to feel between her- Oh Maker, she didn't know what to do with herself!

As his hungry eyes looked her over, his hands brushed the tips of her shoulders. Gently he traced his fingertips to the pale column of her throat and she was helpless. Her eyes finally fell from his sweltering gaze; they leisurely traced a path over the tautness of his chest to the rigid plains of his abdomen. She noticed at his navel a curious path of hair and followed the devilish trail 'til it reached his loin cloth.

She hadn't realized her lips slightly parted as she made a feeble attempt to swallow, nor did she feel the slight twitch to her brow. _Oh Sweet Maker. Sweet, sweet Maker. Am I ready for this? Of course I'm ready for this. He's a man. I'm a woman. We both love each other. People who love each other do this all the time. We can do this. I can do this._ Her eyes dared to delve below the edge and she closed her eyes. _I can't do this. I need to breathe. I need air!_

He offered a small smile, arcing a brow as he leaned in, her eyes fluttered shut as Alistair brushed his lips tenderly against hers. Slowly they traced the curve of her warm cheek and once she felt the sweltering heat of his tongue sweep along her ear lobe her head fell back. The lady warden's hands betrayed her as they left their guard post unmanned, the folds of her shirt parting as they gripped Alistair's arms.

As his mouth continued to kiss the trail down her neck, eager hands swept the fabric down the length of her arms. She could only allow the fabric to flutter helplessly to the floor as his arms slid around her in a tight embrace. She couldn't believe how deliciously warm he felt as her idle hands were left free to caress the finely toned muscle and skin beneath them. She hadn't even noticed or cared that he had untied her breast bind, one of her last lines of defense, relishing the feel of his calloused fingers worshipping her skin as she did his.

As she slowly came to a sudden realization that he was pulling the fabric that separated his chest from hers, she felt a tremor of panic. She held on to him, her arms a vice around his shoulder blades. Gently he leaned back, ducking his gaze to see what troubled her so and she found that she couldn't look up at him straight away. Her dark lashes shielded her green eyes from his, but she found they had a mind of their own as they studied the contact of her white breasts crushed against his tanned skin. She couldn't help but exhale shakily, not even realizing she had been holding a breath as she finally was able to meet his lustful gaze.

The intensity by which he dared regard her with made her mouth go dry and she suddenly felt like she was sinking. She only realized moments later he was guiding them both to the bedrolls that awaited them. Gently he guided her to lay on her back, and Erilys's maidenly shyness called her to cross her arms to shield her bosom. Alistair kneeled beside her, leaning back on his heels as he studied her intently, his hands far too eager to follow their direction. The backs of his fingers sweetly caressed her cheek as one hand trailed her collarbone, taking a timid hand in his and pulling it back as if he were unwrapping the most delicate of presents.

Her cheeks were aflame with maidenly shyness and she couldn't help but feel womanly pride swell in her heart as Alistair regarded her body as one of the most beautiful things his eyes had ever had the pleasure of viewing. From there, kisses were experimental and with each caress they grew more bold and familiar. At last his sword had finally found her sheathe.

But then suddenly he was trembling, convulsing, his hands clenching her shoulders as he gasped, and she could only lay there confused. He collapsed atop her and she could have sworn she heard him sob but once.

"A-alistair?"

"O-oh Maker, I… I am so sorry. So terribly sorry."

"What happened?" She rubbed his back soothingly.

"You know… how they always talk about how there's this glorious end that's supposed to happen?"

"Yes?"

"I… ended."

Gently she nuzzled his burning cheek with hers, "Oh…" By the tenseness of Alistair's shoulders, and Maker's breath did the feel of Alistair's warm weight on her cold body feel good, she knew something was amiss. The words of her dearly departed mother came back to haunt her: "Now, my darling sweet Erilys, on some occasions, a man is going to find his happy ending sooner than you do. If this occurs, and it probably will quite often, you will need to instruct him in what to do with your flower so that you too can come to bloom."

All she could do was gently brush her fingers along his shoulder and neck as she kissed his cheek. With an apologetic sigh that nearly broke her heart, Alistair leaned his forehead against hers, "So much for being a man, eh? I'm so terribly sorry… You must think me the most inadequate of inadequates, just please… don't tell the others?"

"You worry far too much, my love." She reached for his hand and gently squeezed. "Why don't you… let me lead?"

And lead she did and Alistair was quite the student, much to both their satisfaction and surprise. Teyrna Eleanor Cousland was definitely going to receive a sweet prayer of thanks for the embarrassing lectures of flowers, hiding buds, and bees.

As they lay there, the night silent and the fire outside quietly dying with each moment passed, Alistair absentmindedly stroked Erilys's shoulder with a thumb. She was nestled beside him, with her arms curled before her as she savored the warmth their bodies eagerly exchanged.

Never in her life had she ever felt so content, so complete, and never would she have thought that she'd find love in such a like minded soul as Alistair. He who was clumsy with his words and she who was of the wandering mind… perhaps it was just meant to be, but even she knew the dangerous path of such thinking. She'd always be thankful to the Maker for this, no matter what happened next. She desperately didn't want there to be a future where they would be without the other.

And there was this slow dread that had been growing and prickling at the edges of her mind. What she would give to know what the future held.

"I love you, Alistair."

"I love you… with all my heart," he kissed her brow, "and _all_ my soul."

And for now, those simple words that were so full of meaning and tenderness were enough to keep dreary thoughts at bay. Tonight they were a simply a man and a woman, and tomorrow and onward they would be what they were meant to be: Grey Wardens.

* * *

I apologize for the long delay in the chapter. With the holidays I about was ready to collapse. This is not the original version of this chapter though it can be found at the swooping_is_bad LJ community. A link will not be provided since it is much more explicit and not for the eyes of younglings. This chapter however has forced me to change the rating of the fic to Mature. Anyways I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and a happy new year!

And if you haven't yet, and Loghain/PC has you curious and wanting, read Icey_Cold's Trovommi Amor. It's been a delightful read to beta and I thought others might enjoy it as I have.

Anyways, I hope you all like the chapter!


	6. Snippet 6 Familiar Regret and Sorrow

**A Lady and Her Gentleman**

This is a series of snippets in no particular story order regarding the romance between the newly recruited Lady Erilys Cousland and the Grey Warden Alistair. **Caution End Game Spoilers**

_**Snippet 6: Familiar Regret and Sorrow**_

Loghain Mac Tir, a myth and legend among the people of Ferelden, was dead. The sickness and knots she felt curdling and twisting in the deep pit of her stomach greatly tested her stamina. She had instantly recognized the anguish and hate that had made it so plainly known on Anora's grief-stricken face. The deposed queen may have been as frigid as an ice cold witch when she needed to be, but despite her calculated planning for survival, Erilys was more than sure that Anora had not expected to see her father beheaded. Alistair's blade had swung true and cut clean, a father's blood staining crimson the snowy cheeks of a mourning daughter.

With a weary sigh, Lady Erilys Cousland stepped away from the open window, closing the wooden shutters while the rusting hinges moaned in protest.

"You are an odd woman, my dear warden." The woman managed to piece together a stoic expression as she turned to regard Zevran. The elven assassin leaned against the frame of the doorway. "For someone who has only just made herself practically queen, I would expect that particular someone to be more, how would you say it, celebratory? Ecstatic? Giddy?" His expression lightened as an impish grin eagerly spread across his lips, "Would you like a massage? My hands could work their wonders on what I can only imagine to be taut, tight muscles that need to be eased of their tension…"

Erilys merely shook her head, "You'd only try to disrobe me and though I naively allowed you in my tent once before, you must forgive me that I not allow you yet another chance to grope me." The young woman regarded the assassin warily.

The elf merely chuckled, "In my defense, I _did_ warn you."

"And I was but an innocent lamb being shepherded by a prowling wolf I _thought _only meant to help ease my aching back."

"The offer still stands," he playfully arched an eyebrow as his smile deepened. "So, if my hands are denied the exquisite liberty of easing the tension of delectable skin would you then be so kind to ease a gentleman's curiosity?"

The woman scoffed at his last remark, "I think you've made it plain you are no gentleman."

"Then 'dashing rogue who is still ridiculously awesome' will have to suffice." Zevran leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "So, was this your plan all along?"

"What was?"

"Don't play me for a fool, my dear sweet Warden. Alistair presented to you a most wonderful opportunity did he not?" The jovial charm in his grin darkened, "Why, I almost feel right at home."

"I-I beg your pardon? H-how dare you!"

"Ah, look at that!" The exotic elf pushed himself from the wood carved doorframe and slowly sauntered into the room. Amber eyes measured the women up and down at their leisure as Zevran circled her as a cat would a mouse. "I love the way an anger's blush looks upon those lovely cheeks of yours. I mean no disrespect, but being a companion of yours I thought I might delve into your mind and see just what inspired such an exquisite, if surprising, decision."

"You really can't see why?" Anger danced across her features, her brow slightly twitching as she followed the Antivan Crow's every move. "Do you really see me as some grubby noblewoman opportunist that you can't see _why_ I did what I thought was best?" The Warden reached out to place a hand firmly on his shoulder, hoping to stop his predatory prowl, only to have it caught in his grasp. Zevran merely arched an eyebrow.

"You ask me that as if I can understand a woman's mind. Tsk tsk tsk. Such a thing a man has never been able to do, I'm afraid. Consider it the reason why I ask." As a calloused thumb gently caressed her knuckle, Erilys made a poor attempt to feebly pull back her hand. The elf refused to let her go.

"Very well, I couldn't stand the idea of that… betraying harpy marrying him or him ruling alone." Her gaze grew distant as images of a future that could have been floated about in her weary mind: A man and woman fighting as if they were children, to the same couple years older and more appreciative of the other. The final image of blond children running about made her feel cold. "If… If he married her, she made it plain as day that it was she who would push him aside and make sure hers was the ruling voice. And if he ruled alone I couldn't help but wonder… what if someone would try to slay him or worse yet take advantage of his political naïveté?"

"So nothing of love then? You chose to be betrothed to him purely for his benefit? _My_ you are quite the saint."

With a ferocious yank, Erilys pulled her hand free as she shook her head, unable to believe the audacity of the question. "Of course love, _most of all_ love..." What made him think he had the right to ask these sort of questions was all she could think. Why did he have to pick and prod apart this particular decision of _all_ the crucial cross roads they had crossed before? She rubbed her hands together, fighting off the chill that sank into her bones as she thought out each word carefully. "Think about it. He is the last of the Theirin blood line and the _one thing_ he is going to be pressured into is having heirs to secure that his line lives on. It…it is no secret that for months he and I have," a blush painted her cheeks as she turned away from him, "well, you know."

Zevran could only laughed, "Like rabbits in the spring! Thank goodness for herbs and rogue's tea, am I right?"

The Warden merely folded her hands in her lap. "We have taken no precautions."

Zevran blinked. Erilys coughed with ladylike composure.

"You mean he doesn't even, pardon my boldness," he swallowed, "pull out?" The noblewoman could only bite her lip, looking askance, unable to meet Zevran's gaze. "I ah... shall take the awkward silence and your extremely red cheeks as a 'no.'"

A trembling sigh shook through her limbs, her fingers busily entwined themselves as she faced the closed window, studying the detail of the latched shutters. "What if simply being me wasn't enough? What if I'm as barren as Anora is rumored to be? Though I'm a Cousland, what if being an empty vessel of a woman has damned me from being with the man I love?"

"You're right."

As she pivoted on an armored heel, her strickened gaze met that of the grim man before her, his tall frame cautiously stepping into the room. Alistair regarded the two carefully.

Zevran casually shrugged, "I suppose I'll take this as my cue to make a dashing exit."

The Templar-Warden stepped aside for the retreating elf, his eyes never leaving that of the woman who stood as still as stone before him. Her clenched jaw ached from how tense it felt, her hands were tightly held before her as she held her head high. As Alistair stepped within the room, the scraping of his armor could only make the woman more aware of the muted silence between them.

Just as she was about to speak he silenced her with a raise of his hand. "If you don't mind," He leveled her with a cautious stare, "let me be the first to say I didn't want this; being made king that is." Armored fingers combed through his hair as he continued on, "You had asked me not to think ill of you should it have come to this when I told you of my _royal_ parentage. Part of me though, really truly hoped you wouldn't have picked me over Anora."

"Alistair, I-"

"Let me finish, my heart. If I can't tell you this now… I know me. I won't tell you until it's far too late. You'll either forgive me or hate me and I want this out now so it can be out of the way and this weight in the air can be lifted." He waved a hand about for good measure.

Erilys sank in a nearby chair, the wooden legs scraped along the stone from the sudden movement as Alistair stood close before her. She desperately wanted to shove him away; the proximity with which he stood made her unbearably uncomfortable.

"I overheard what you and Zevran were talking about." Shame forced her to study the ground as the man knelt before her, his expression unusually serious. "I want you to understand what I am about to say… and no hitting. You, if you had only proclaimed me as king and left it at that you are correct, my love. You and I as… lovers, I would have ended it."

Her throat felt constricted as his soft words reached her delicate ears. "I see." Her own words sounded so alien to her. "Why?"

That he would regard her with such compassion pained her. How could he? Having just confessed that he and she would have been no more than comrade in arms pained her heart. After all they had been through from Ostagar, Goldanna, Howe, to this. How she hated her intuition so badly. Why couldn't they celebrate their engagement like normal people? Why did this have to be so difficult?

"There's a reason why you haven't been with child." Erilys went rigid as he continued, "Becoming a Grey Warden…" as he spoke, carefully explaining the chances of either of them conceiving a child, each syllable pushed Erilys further from reality. Her surroundings grew hazy and all she could see was her family in her mind's eye. Her mother and father doting on both her and Fergus, something she'd more than likely never have again. She would never have a daughter named Eleanor or a son named Bryce and Highever would be doomed to fall to another noble house after her passing.

That's when it struck her.

"So we are to be the last of both our lines, yes?" Her hands held each other tightly; Alistair could only offer an apologetic nod. She pushed herself up and away, pacing around the room. "Why hasn't this come up sooner?" The noblewoman tiredly brushed the palm of her hand over her face.

"I didn't think to tell you because when would it have been a good time? Congratulations, you've survived drinking magically prepared blood against all odds and not only will you eat as if you were a ravenous pig, you'll never ever worry about getting a woman with child."

"And you would have left me."

"Yes." His short answer unnerved her.

"Damn it all to oblivion, Alistair!" She rushed toward him, hands planted against his armor as they stood toe to toe. "I love you! _Love_ you! And if marrying me is something that inconveniences you without an heir then so be it. Maker and all other gods out there be damned, you're all I have left." The last of her words limply escaped her lips as her forehead came to rest against the cool metal of Alistair's breastplate. "You knew this all along," her whispered words were weak, "and you still saw fit to steal my heart."

In response, strong arms tenderly embraced the woman and the familiar weight of a chin resting atop her head lulled her senses. Slowly Alistair swayed; he brushed his lips upon her brow.

"I know it's far too soon to be seeking your forgiveness, my lady," gently he tightened his hold on her, "but truth be told a part of me _was_ greatly relieved you announced you'd rule beside me. There's no one in all of Ferelden I'd want more at my side." His hands slid up to hold her armored shoulders, his lips caressed her forehead and then he was gone.

_§*~Later in the still of the night...~*§_

Though the maids of Arl Eamon's estate had been kind enough to move her things into Alistair's room, no doubt thanks to the news of their engagement reaching their ears, Erilys stubbornly stayed in the room she was originally given upon their arrival in Denerim.

The soft coverlets were neatly draped over her while a familiar mountain of fur laid curled up at her covered feet. Unable to sleep, all she could do was lay there and think of her mother, father, and Fergus. She was a little girl again, hurt and confused with matters of the heart and no one to turn to. No mother to gently pet her hair and hug her close. No soothing words from a father she adored and no pranks from a brother to keep her mind occupied.

That Alistair would have severed their relationship even though he loved her bothered her to no end. She'd have fought tooth and nail to keep their love if need be. She buried her face into a pillow as familiar teasing words echoed in her ears. _This is why you let father and I meet the men you fancy first, sister dear._

"Where are you, Fergus?" The weight of the bed shifted as Atticus sleepily made his way to slumber at his mistress's side. Erilys was more than happy to lay an arm over her dear, dear hound. "We'll find him won't we?"

Atticus merely whined as he rested his snout on his front paws, listening to his mistress continue, "I hate feeling like this. Things were so certain before. Kill darkspawn, kill the archdemon, save the kingdom." Her fingers slid along the soft fur of the hound beside her, "When did everything get so complicated?"

If there was ever a harsh lesson the past year had taught her was that nothing was ever constant. Happiness, peace… love. All could be gone in an instant.

As the door to her room slowly opened, she quickly turned her head away from the entrance, feigning sleep to dissuade any unwanted conversation. Perhaps she was acting as a child, but it was too soon for her.

Hushed footsteps slowly made their way to her bed; the weight off it shifted slightly as a knee no doubt came to rest on its edge as a warm hand gently caressed her cheek. Was it pride that kept her eyes shut? That kept her from welcoming him into her bed with an embrace while instead the man she loved gingerly slipped into her bed, careful to not wake the woman he thought asleep.

Atticus slipped off the bed and trotted toward the dead hearth, the fire long since spent earlier in the evening.

Only as Alistair pulled her close, molding his frame against hers from behind, did Erilys finally open her eyes. This closeness, this warmth that she craved so much from the man beside her: She would fight a thousand archdemons if it meant she could keep it. That Alistair would have left her because she would not likely conceive his child hurt her. How could he not want to keep what they had? Erilys Cousland knew though, she knew deep inside that politically it would have been the right decision.

She pushed herself up, her crimson hair cascading around her shoulders and down her back. As she regarded the man beside her carefully, Alistair could only look up quizzically no doubt wanting to know what was swirling within her pretty little head.

"What's wrong?" He scratched at the stubble on his chin, his gaze sleepy.

Erilys climbed atop him, pulling his nightshirt up then quickly making short work of the laces of his small clothes. "If they are to make demands of an heir from us," She looked down at him, the determined gaze of her green eyes stilled him, "and we aren't able to produce one, damn it all Alistair. It won't be from lack of trying."

His hands caught her wrists in his, "Erilys." She frowned and he sighed. "I'm sorry."

Such simple words and they shattered what flimsy resolve she had feebly gathered only moments before. She sank atop him, a hand soothed her back as she rest her cheek upon a firm shoulder, moments passing, until finally the young woman settled comfortable beside her love.

"When this is all over, will you help me?" Her voice was muffled by the coverlet that was pressed against her lips.

"With what?"

She hugged him close, "Help me find, Fergus." He simply nodded in response.

Perhaps Alistair understood. If Fergus was found, alive and well by some blessing by the Maker, then perhaps, at very least, the Cousland line could live on and not only would she have her brother back but the damning of the Joining could partially be washed away from her mind.

* * *

***PHEW*** I can't apologize enough for the hiatus that this story has suffered through. So much has happened since November. Good things though! Been asked to illustrate a couple of children books as well as starting to submit concept art for a game in the works for Sie Ent, a new game company! :D There they have dubbed me "Illustrator of Hot Men." I can't tell you how giddy I've been. Things have been so rough mentally the past two years and finally things have started to look up. Thank you so much for your kind reviews and your patience. :) I know I have a terrible habit of endbeforeitis but this is one story I am determined to see finished.

Want to give another shout out to my bestfriend and beta, Icey_Cold, and if you haven't read her Loghain/Cousland fic, Trovommi Amor, that's posted here on the site I urge you to read it. Great stuff. Without her my writings would be giberrish and random notes of DAISY DAISY would echo through out the paragraphs. I'm INSANE. (O_O)Oh! And there are three pieces of art I've drawn that is related to the fic whose links have been posted in my profile. If any other artwork is added I'll be sure to let you know in the next snippet should anymore be conjured up.

Anyways enjoy and if you're up to it, let me know what y'all think. Thanks guys!


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